


In the Noise and the Whips

by curiouswildflower



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: A little bit of everything, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, FTM Alex, Fluff, Sex, h/c, transgender character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouswildflower/pseuds/curiouswildflower
Summary: They’re not exactly a coven, though they’re largely inseparable and half of them are magic.—“Conduct your blooming in the noise and the whips of the revolution.”- from Cauleen Smith’s pieceConduct You Bloomingat the Art Institute of Chicago





	1. Curve, Palm, Sketch

**Author's Note:**

> all of the thanks to tomorrowsrain for the one-word prompts and endless support <3
> 
> scenes w/ sexy content will be noted with a * in the chapter title

**Curve.**

 

Alex huffs when his bedroom door opens. There are rules in this apartment and Aaron loves those rules, he wouldn’t so blatantly-

There’s a one-two-three set of sensations - a weight sinking into the bed, the smell of tiger balm, and fingers pushing through his hair - that tell him it isn’t Aaron that’s broken the rules.

Except – “Aaron has no respect for my boundaries,” Alex announces, making no attempt to hide the petulant whine to his voice. He hears Aaron blow a raspberry from the direction of the kitchen.

“Aaron has plenty of respect for your boundaries,” Eliza says softly. “I think I just scare him more than you do.”

Alex wiggles forward, pressing his forehead into Eliza’s thigh. The hand in his hair picks up its stroking again, careful Eliza untangling knots as she finds them. It’s only to his ears, it shouldn’t even knot at this length. Even his hair can’t do anything right.

After a few more moments of silence, Eliza moves her hand to tap his shoulder blade. “You should take this off if you’re going to nap.”

Alex presses his forearms into his chest, feeling the stretch of his back as he curls into a tighter ball. He never knows quite how to explain this feeling, this heaviness, so all he says is - “Can’t.”

Eliza finger traces over to his tricep, around the curve of his shoulder. “My strong man. Working out with John again? Do you need a bigger size?”

There’s a flickering candle somewhere in the corner of Alex’s brain that appreciates the familiar spark of Eliza’s levity. He must take too long to respond – thoughts wading through the ankle-deep sludge that fills his head from one of any number of taps he struggles to keep closed. 

Eliza stands, walking in the direction of his closet. When she sits again she swings her legs onto the bed, laying down next to him. Her weight above the covers pulls them tighter against his back, pulling him deeper down into the mattress. He drinks in her dark eyes, the kind smile in the corner of her mouth. She holds up his tightest sports bra.

“If you change, then we can sleep.”

Alex huffs. Nods. She sets the bra on the mattress between them, kisses his head. “I’m going to brush my teeth.”

 

 

\--

**Palm.**

 

Alex shifts, tucking his right foot under his thigh. The pressure twinges in his ankle and he sets it back on the ground, only to lean and tuck his left foot up instead. Eliza is small enough to sit on her chair fully cross-legged - that asshole – and Alex can’t seem to look away from her chipped pale-green nail polish against the pale-blue of her jeans.

“I’m far worse at this than tarot.”

Eliza nods. “You told me that. That’s why you wanted to practice.”

Alex returns her nod. Right, he did say that. Fuck.

He sighs, shoulders curling as he holds out his left hand. Eliza places her right hand in his offered one.

Alex presses the ball of his foot into the floorboards. Fills his lungs until they protest. Takes off his glasses and sets them to the side on the kitchen table.

Here goes nothing.

The first thing he notices are the lines - sees them almost lift off her palm in turn. They color coat themselves – purple for the Saturn line curving toward her pinky, red for the straight Head line with no fork. As quick as one lifts it disappears, replaced by another. He can feel his guidebook in his front pocket, pressing uncomfortably against his thigh with the weight of reliance. What good is studying the fucking thing if every time he looks at a palm it all goes too fast for him to even think-

He jumps at the press of warm lips against his wrist. Eliza holds his hand in hers, now, and leans over her legs as she kisses the heel of his palm.

“Another time,” she says, lips moving against his skin. Alex squirms for more than one reason.

“I can do it now.”

Her face is blurry without his glasses but he recognizes the set of her dark eyebrows. “Your face went from concentrating to frustrated. Do you actually want to keep trying?”

He shrugs as she sits up, drawing his hand into her lap. “Alexander.”

“No.” Something in his stomach twists. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

He reaches for his glasses, bringing her smile into clarity. “I’m never disappointed in this.” Alex watches as her smile turns playful, almost predatory, lifting his hand to her mouth again. “It’s one of many areas you never seem to disappoint in.”

Alex’s breath catches as she bites into the meat of his thumb, returns her grin as she runs her tongue up his index finger. “I’m glad to hear it.”

 

\--

 

**Sketch.**

 

Eliza goes boneless when she comes, catching herself on Alex’s shoulders as she slides off his hips. Only a moment later Alex tugs and kicks his way out of the harness, sitting up and shoving it off the end of the bed. He turns at Eliza’s giggle and returns her smile, laying back and curling onto his side to lay flush against her.

Alex is pleased to notice she’s still catching her breath – wide, pale face radiating contentment. She pushes his bangs off of his forehead, tracing her finger around his ear. She thumbs the flat of his cartilage and Alex wonders if she can feel the indent. He whispers, “Someday I’ll let John show you the pictures of my punk phase.”

Eliza’s dark eyes glance down to his, mouth curling into a wider smile. Alex resists a shiver at the faint drag of her nail against his skin and she looks back to where her fingers trail down his neck. Alex sighs as her palm presses against his arm, reaching his own hands out to hold her waist.

“John drew these, right?”

Alex nods. Sunflower, aloe, purple coneflower. Symmetric bursts of petals wrapping around his arm and shoulder. “I’m not very good at herbalism.”

Eliza taps the spikey bundle of St. John’s wort tucked on the inside of his arm before wrapping her arm around his shoulders. Alex follows her pull, letting her draw his head under her chin. It’s almost cold in his room, with the blankets pushed to the floor out of reach. They’ll have to shower soon.

“St. John’s wort.”

Alex props his chin on her chest, eyebrows drawing together. “Have you been reading?”

Eliza smiles, bends to kiss his forehead. “Of course I have.”

Alex doesn’t know how to feel about that. Wishes he didn’t have his contacts in – could better see her aura.

“But that’s the one John has too? St. John’s wort.”

Alex tightens his arms around Eliza’s waist, almost squeezing. “Yeah. We got it together.”

He still has the sketch taped on his wall, somewhere in the mess above his alter.


	2. Forest, Blow*, Hold

**Forest.**

Alex curls his knees into his chest at the sound of footsteps behind him. He jumps at the sudden weight of a blanket dropped around his shoulders – draws it tighter around himself and stubbornly doesn’t say thank you.

It’s Aaron that sits next to him. Quiet Aaron and his quiet shoes crunching twigs in a quiet forest. Alex ignores the strain on his arms to pull his knees even tighter. He imagines curling smaller – folding himself in and in and in until nothing existed but a pair of glasses.

Aaron taps his shoulder once. _Did something happen?_

Alex shakes his head. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Aaron taps his shoulder twice. _Do you need anything?_

Alex shrugs. He doesn’t know the words for this. He’s never needed them – his mom could tell. Laf. Even John, a little. But Aaron can’t and Eliza can’t and for all the words Alex knows, in this they always fail him.

“Sally couldn’t stand winter.” Aaron says. His voice isn’t quiet, necessarily. Measured. Aaron only ever fills exactly as much space as he wants to. Exactly as much is called for in any situation. Alex has never seen him out of place.

Wouldn’t that be nice.

“She moved to Arizona for school. Dropped out once she found a coven.”

There’s a curl of a smile in his words. This is a fond story. His older, rebellious, magic sister.

“She invites me down for Yule every year. I know we’ve stayed in the city for the last few, but maybe you and I should visit her. She’d love you.”

Alex has never met Sally, but he wonders how similar she looks to Aaron. He imagines them standing in the red Arizona desert - her with dreads and charms and skirts next to Aaron’s shaved head and pressed slacks.

“I can’t afford the plane tickets,” he says, soft enough the rustle of the wind seems to carry the words right out of his mouth.

“That solves the problem of what I was going to get you for the holidays, then.”

Alex has gotten used to Aaron’s generosity. It doesn’t feel so heavy, anymore.

“Then we’ll go.”

Aaron shifts and Alex feels the weight of his shoulder as they lean against one another. Feels the damp of the thawing leaves below him seep through his pants. Feels the gentle hum of life in all directions, here in a forest in a city.

 

\--

**Blow***

Something in Alex breaks when Eliza shoves him against her front door and asks with breath hot against his ear, “Can I blow you?”

His hips jerk as he moans his consent, grasping at her waist as she sucks biting kisses into the skin of his neck. She tugs his collar aside and tongues along his collarbone as she shoves her hands under his sweater.

“Off?” she asks, inching his sweater up. Alex gasps, “Binder on.”

Eliza shoves his sweater over his head and Alex slaps himself in the nose in an attempt to not lose his glasses. She spreads her palms on his hips and Alex returns the favor, bunching up her dress and asking “Off?”

Eliza grins and leans back far enough to pull her dress over her head. “Off,” she announces, and Alex laughs at the spark of her aura, the promise in her grin. She takes the initiative to unfasten her bra and drop it behind her in their growing pile of clothes, but she drops to her knees before Alex can get his hands on her.

Later, he promises himself as he smooths his palms over her already-messy braid. He arches against the door as Eliza bites at his belly, fingers working quickly to undo his jeans.

Those don’t make it to the pile, pooling at his ankles with his boxer briefs soon after. Eliza’s hands are hot against his thighs when she nudges his legs apart and Alex has no time to adjust to the sight of her on her knees in front of him before she fucking growls “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Heat sears through his belly as he groans “Holy fuck, Eliza-“ and his palms sting when he slaps them against the door. Alex stops trying to keep up with her when she licks up the seam of him and uses her tongue to suck his clit into her mouth.

Alex presses his hands flat into the door and seeks the floor through his shoes as he tries not to come immediately. Her mouth is hot and her tongue rubs and rubs and rubs and Alex chases her, unable to help his whining. She moves her mouth lower, licking and kissing as she gets her fingers on him and there that’s exactly - holy fuck-

Alex comes. Almost immediately his knees give out and he can’t help but laugh at the sound of his back skidding down the door as he attempts to not completely fall over. Eliza’s hands are tight on his hips, grinning with those perfect teeth in her perfect mouth that currently shines like messy lip gloss.

She sits back on her heels and helps him down to the floor. Alex shivers as her hands drag up his sides, and he reaches back quickly to shove off his shoes and push his jeans and underwear off his ankles.

Alex turns back to Eliza – the flush on her neck and chest, the black of her underwear against her pale hips, the dark messy hair across her shoulders. He kisses her wet mouth, slow compared to her pace so far, and cradles her shoulders as he lays her down with the pile of their clothing shoved under her head.

Alex strokes along her spine, lazy fingers matching lazy kisses. He can hear her breathing as she tries to match pace, tongue curling around his in her mouth.

While Alex would prefer less than no attention to his chest he knows Eliza feels dramatically different, and he leaves soft kisses down her throat on his way to take her nipple into his mouth. He leans up on his elbow just enough to slip the fingers of his other hand into the front of her underwear and has the specific pleasure of feeling her nipple harden on his tongue as she shivers all over.

“Shit,” she whispers, “Fuck your hands are cold.”

Alex traces lightly, circles slowly. “If you hadn’t jumped me the minute I walked through the door…” He bites at the skin across her ribs.

“If you remembered to wear those beautiful gloves Laf got you for the holidays-“

Alex pushes one finger into her, grinning at her glare.

“You know you can’t always-“ her breath hitches as he licks up her sternum, fingers steadily working her up. “You can’t just finger me to win arguments.”

Alex nips at her throat, nips at her lips. He knows he sounds cocky as he teases “It’s working out so far, isn’t it?”

Their noses bump as she suddenly fists her hands in his hair, jerking his mouth down against hers. Alex smiles against her frantic kisses, fingers matching the pace she’s once again controlling. They stay that way until as she comes – Alex’s fingers buried in and against her, hers in his hair, their mouths tight together.

The floor just inside Eliza’s front door bears streaks of their energies for days and Alex can’t tell if it’s mocking him or congratulating him. He’s just glad Eliza can’t See it.

 

 

\--

**Hold.**

Alex sighs, exasperated, as John fidgets and his curls slip through Alex’s fingers again.

“Do you want a braid or not?” Alex asks, not quite disguising the impatient edge of his voice. “You have to hold still.”

John huffs, drawing his knees up to his chest and taking a deep breath. Alex leans forward, puts a foot on the ground next to John’s hip to balance himself as he leans off the edge of the couch. John’s hair is soft in his hands as he starts to braid it again.

“Are you okay?” Alex whispers. Even through his glasses he can tell something’s off with John’s aura, but he knows John hates that he’s so easy to read. So, Alex asks.

Now that John is finally still, Alex finishes the braid and twists the hair tie on his wrist around the ends to keep it secure. He spreads his hands across the back of John’s neck, sliding over his shirt until his fingers fan across his shoulders.

“John.” He says, quiet. For a while the only sound is Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s muted voice coming from John’s phone on the coffee table. Teaching them about Jupiter, if they’re still on the same episode of Star Talk as the last time Alex paid attention.

Suddenly John twists, hands going to Alex’s calves. He makes fleeting eye contact - a question. Alex nods, pulling on John’s arms, and is pushed flat against the couch with John tucked tight against him.

They line up almost exactly, stretched out like this. John buries his face in Alex’s neck, and Alex wraps his arms around John’s back. When John whines, just barely, Alex throws a leg across his hips and pushes so John is almost under him. John’s hands knot in Alex’s sweatshirt – tight and tense.

“Oh, John,” Alex murmurs. “You’re okay, pretty boy.”


	3. Crown, Positive, Remain

**Crown.**

It’s Aaron who admits to Alex that he keeps them all in his phone’s calendar. January 20th. August 28th. September 8th. November 10th.

Too many dead moms. It’s fucking depressing.

Between the four of them – Laf, John, Alex, Aaron – the year is scattered with annual bad days. Even Eliza has a few to add. But there’s one day that John salvaged.

He opens the door to Alex’s knock in a faded coral tshirt and light jeans. There are yellow flowers braided into his hair, which Laf loudly claims as his handiwork. Alex can’t resist hugging him tightly as Eliza pushes gently past them.

John leaves his arm slung across Alex’s shoulders when they part. Alex watches as Eliza smiles and ducks her chin to accept the pink flower Laf carefully tucks into her bun. Laf kisses her forehead, calls her _ma belle_. Alex can’t settle on a metaphor for the fullness in his chest – a blooming garden, a bright glow. 

Laf anoints Alex similarly – a pink flower behind his ear, a kiss on his hair. “ _Merci._ What does Aaron get?”

Laf disappears in the direction of the kitchen, comes back with little white flowers woven in a circle. He explains how he learned to make it – “A real crown of flowers, Alex-“ trying to both wave his hands and carefully hold the crown. The sun through the window is bright across Laf’s shoulders, blessedly warm for early May.

Alex finds his mind wandering - hoping this year they go back to volunteer at that garden. The year they planted a tree was kind of exhausting.

Either way, Aaron will arrive soon. Maybe with Theo. 

Alex squeezes where his arm is still wrapped around John’s waist. Grateful.

 

\--

 

**Positive.**

Eliza was… unexpected. Alex didn’t plan on her. He didn’t plan on her laugh, her grin. He didn’t plan on the way her skirt pools around their hips when she straddles him. The feeling of her long fingers tightening in his hair. Her careful wit, her steady thoughtfulness. He didn’t plan on someone who needed him the way he always tried not to need people.

Because Eliza does. She needs people. She needs to help them, she needs to love them. Alex sees it written in her tarot, in her palm, in her studies and her tears.  
Alex delights in introducing her to the boys. He sees them in her – she has Laf’s positivity, Aaron’s perseverance, John’s fear. He wonders what she sees in them. What she sees in him.

Sometimes when she looks at him he thinks he knows. 

 

\--

 

**Remain.**

When Alex finds him, Laf is a fucking mess.

He’s puking, hunched low over his kitchen sink. His hair has bunched unevenly and the cream collar of his shirt looks loose around his tense shoulders. He flinches at Alex’s hand on his back, knees knocking loudly against the cabinets. His skin is almost grey, stretched tight across his knuckles where he grips the counter. Alex shushes him gently. _“Let’s get you to the bathroom. Can you walk?”_

He feels Laf’s shuddering breath as much as he hears it, fingers spread low on his back. The painful curve to his spine remains even as he stands, draping himself over Alex’s shoulders and letting himself be led.

Laf doesn’t look like he’s going to puke anymore, so Alex sets him on the closed toilet seat. He opens Laf’s medicine cabinet, pushing aside his razor and cologne and searching for some kind of painkiller.

When he turns with three ibuprofen and a glass of water, Alex notices tears leaking slowly down his cheeks. “Here," he says quietly, sighing as Laf dutifully takes the medicine and finishes the water. _“Do you want to shower?”_

Laf pats at his hair and something in his face changes. He starts crying harder, curling over his knees.

“Hey! Whoa –“ Alex drops to his knees, hands sliding up Laf’s arms. “Gil – hey. _What do you need?_ ”

Laf scrubs at his eyes and Alex squeezes his biceps. Laf looks up, leans forward so suddenly Alex’s hands tighten on his arms to keep him from falling. In an instant Laf’s mouth is on Alex’s.

He sits back almost as suddenly, and Alex’s hands fall to Laf’s knees. Alex takes a deep breath, Laf mimics him. Laf’s face is so blank it’s unreadable, and Alex feels all at once completely exhausted.

_“Let’s go to bed, Laf. Brush your teeth. I’ll find you some pajamas.”_

Laf nods. Alex feels his way around Laf’s bedroom in the dark, hearing the methodical sounds of his nighttime routine. He strips down to his briefs and one of Laf’s tshirts and climbs under the covers, figuring if Laf can coordinate brushing his teeth he can coordinate putting on his own pajamas.

Several minutes later the bed dips as Laf gets in on the other side. Alex lets the tension out of his body, expecting Laf to curl against him. Instead Laf lays flat on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Alex doesn’t know what to do with the space between them.

_“My love is going to hate me.”_

Alex almost doesn’t hear him. Wonders if Laf meant it to be heard. Wonders if Laf realizes what he just called John.

_“I can’t promise how he’s going to react to anything. You’re dating a firecracker. But I don’t hate you, and he and I are pretty similar.”_

Laf’s hand brushes Alex’s thigh and keeps moving until his fingers curl around Alex’s. _“You are more of a lantern.”_

Alex hums. Enjoys the comparison. Offers, _“You’re a torch.”_

Laf doesn’t smile but he squeezes Alex’s hand. _“I love you, Alexandre.”_

Something in Laf’s aura softens as he says it. As he hears Alex reply, _“I love you, Gilbert.”_


	4. Enjoy, Choose, Lemon

**Enjoy.**

It takes Aaron hours to come down from the shock of Alex not knowing how to play solitaire.

“The only cards in our house on the island were tarot, Aaron, and it seems like that would make a really bad reading.”

Aaron still can’t believe it. Runs through a list of games he compiles on the spot, growing more and more determined as Alex admits he’s never played any of them. He disappears into his room after that, though Alex should have realized the conversation wasn’t over.

As they eat macaroni and cheese side by side on their couch, Aaron reveals that he’s found a place a few blocks away where they can hang out and play games. He thinks Alex would like Scrabble best, or maybe Monopoly. He wants to introduce Alex to games he doesn’t even recognize, like Carcasone or Settlers of Catan. 

Alex sits mostly quietly. While the diligence in his planning is completely unsurprising, Alex can’t think of another time he’s heard Aaron say this many words in a row. He promises to make Laf and John and Eliza join this educational quest with them, tells Aaron to invite Theo or Maria if he wants. Aaron seems satisfied with Alex’s commitment, and goes quiet again until they’re washing their dishes.

“When Sally wasn’t practicing magic, or when we weren’t studying, we’d play games. Our grandparents had some, but there was a shop not unlike the one I found this afternoon, with games lining the walls. We’d go every weekend, when we didn’t have school as an excuse to be out of the house. We taught ourselves a new game every couple weeks.”

It’s another almost-uncharacteristic admission. Alex watches Aaron – the softness in his face, the slope of his shoulders, the way his toes curl into the rug in front of their kitchen sink. Aaron smiles at him after he dries his hands, apologizes that he has to disappear to his room again to finish a report due on Tuesday.

Alex nods, returns his smile. Aaron squeezes his hand before he walks away, and Alex tries not to jump like he’s been shocked. Feels instead like he’s been given a gift, this chance to indulge in something Aaron clearly enjoys. 

He checks his phone to see Laf and Eliza eagerly agreeing to come to this initial Teach Alex Games event, and John calling them all nerds. Aaron responds with the emoji wearing thick-framed glasses, and Alex laughs out loud.

 

\--

 

**Choose.**

Alex has to resist literally bouncing on his toes as he lets Eliza into his apartment. He sweeps her into a hug and a peck on the lips, spinning her in a circle to make her giggle.

“What has you so happy?” she asks, leaning into his chest and draping her arms over his shoulders.

“I can’t just be happy to see my girlfriend?” Alex teases, laughing at Eliza’s disbelieving squint. “Okay, you caught me. Something’s different, can you tell?”

Eliza’s face smooths into something more considering, stepping back to hold Alex at an arm’s length. He grins and taps his fingers on her waist as he tries to stay still under her inspection.

“You decided to start packing?”

Alex shakes his head. She hums, toying with his sleeves. “You got a new shirt?” Alex shakes his head again, harder this time.

“I give up,” she says, stepping forward to kiss his nose. “Tell me?”

Alex lets go of Eliza’s waist to cup his hands behind his ears. “Look!”

Her eyes widen as she touches gently at Alex’s right earlobe. She looks over at the matching piercing on his left and smiles at him. “They look pretty, Alex.”

Alex squirms under her praise. “John and I got them. He bought us special earrings. I’m so happy they pierced us with the stars like we wanted.”

Something changes in Eliza’s smile as she settles her hands on Alex’s hips. “This was John’s idea?”

Alex nods and shrugs at the same time with a little twitch. “Usually when we’re paying someone to hurt us it’s John’s idea.”

Eliza giggles at that, then hums. She looks at his ears again. “If you and John have stars, Laf and I should get moons.”

Alex darts forward to squeeze her in another hug. “Eliza, you’re a genius.” It’s only a moment later that he registers – “Wait, Laf’s ears are pierced?”

Eliza nods. “Yeah, he wears diamonds. You haven’t noticed?” 

Alex shakes his head, Eliza squeezes his shoulders. His girlfriend is such a fucking genius. What a cute idea. He and John with stars, Eliza and Laf with moons. Maybe Theo would want stars, but Aaron-

Alex gasps, Eliza’s eyebrows shoot up. “Something up?”

“Aaron’s the only one who doesn’t have his ears pierced. Laf, Maria, Theo- only Aaron.”

Alex pushes past Eliza, ducking into his room. Eliza calls from the hallway – “Don’t you think he should have a say in his own body modification?”

Alex scoffs. “Not when he’s the only one. And now I can teach him how to take care of them.”

He finds his phone under his pillow and turns at the sound of Eliza in his doorway. “Besides,” he continues, pulling up the right conversation. “Don’t you think he’d look good with them? Little silver balls, maybe.”

“He would look good. I just want him to think so too.”

Alex pockets his phone after sending off the text to Aaron. “He will. You’ll see.”

(He doesn’t, but he likes Alex’s, which is close enough.)

 

\--

 

**Lemon.**

John stands in the doorway to Alex’s bathroom. Alex watches the way his shirt pulls against his shoulders as he fills a cup, knocks something back into his mouth, and chases it with water. 

“That’s not what those are for,” Alex scolds. His voice cracks and he feels it echo in his chest.

John turns. His face looks blurry from Alex’s place in bed, but Alex recognizes the clench in his jaw. He grins, an angry thing, and gestures at the counter. “Would you rather I chose a different method?”

Alex glares at him and squirms until he’s facing the other direction. He tucks his arms and legs against his chest, curling as small as possible. John can do whatever he wants to his body. Alex is too tired to care.

He’s also too tired to hear John cross the room – his only warning is the bed dipping before John tucks himself tight against Alex’s back. Alex doesn’t stop him as he shoves his arms around Alex’s waist, tugging him even closer and burying his face in his neck. It’s almost too warm, with John and the blankets, but it settles something anxious in Alex’s stomach to have him so close.

Eventually - “They help make it quiet.”

“I know, pretty boy. I get it.”

“And not every day. Just when I need them.”

Alex twists his head, tries to see him. John kisses his shoulder but doesn’t give up his grip on his waist, so Alex resettles. Watches the snow outside the window.

“You’re okay.” Alex whispers. “We’re okay, John.”

He nods, forehead dragging against Alex’s shirt. John’s breath is hot on his back when he asks, “Later, can we make lemon cake?”

“Yeah. Later.”

John nods again and Alex feels some of the tension leave John’s body like a wave down his back.


	5. Grief, Worry, Hope

**Grief.**

Alex remembers the stall. The woman’s skirts in brilliant pinks and oranges, like a sunset against her pale skin. Her table was decorated similarly, with threads of gold that sparkled and caught Alex’s attention. He was barely tall enough to see the trinkets on display – vials with labels he couldn’t read. In fact, the more he tried to focus on them the more they made his head hurt.

“Sweet child,” the woman had called him. “Something you’re after?”

Alex remembers thinking of the ocean. Of getting away. The woman’s fingers were cold and sudden against his temple. She leaned forward in her chair, eyes closing, and Alex couldn’t move. Where was Mama?

“Poor child.” She murmured, barely loud enough for Alex to hear. “Trapped. I can fix this.”

Alex felt a presence at his back, an arm across his chest pulling him against Mama and out of the shade of the stall. Blinking against the sunlight he felt suddenly like he had eaten something rotten and needed to sleep until he was better.

“You’ll not touch my son.” Mama whispered, sharp. Alex leaned further into her embrace, felt her arm tighten around his shoulders. “Keep away from here.”

The woman huffed, sitting back into her chair and reminding him suddenly of a king in a throne from one of his childhood picture books. “I have a permit, same as you.”

Mama turned him suddenly, and he rushed to keep up with her pace as she walked away. She turned a corner, in one motion crouching down and tugging him against her chest. He held her just as tight, face buried in her hair.

“She was going to hurt you, Alexandre.” Mama whispered. “You have to learn not to follow the draw of her kind of magic.”

Alex nodded. Mama carded her hand through his short hair, breathing against him. The sour feeling hadn’t quite left his stomach. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault, dear. Stay with me. We’ll keep each other safe.”

Alex liked that idea. He could do that.

Later, he studied. Wanted to recognize the kind of magic Mama wanted him to avoid. 

Even later, empty with grief, he considered. He didn’t ever want to hurt a person or an animal for his magic.

But there were pieces of himself left to spare.

 

\--

 

**Worry.**

Alex shoves open the door and shivers at the burst of cold air. John and Laf make a rather pretty picture leaning next to each other, Laf facing the house and John with his elbows on the railing looking over at the train station across the street. Alex stomps out onto the snow-covered balcony, sliding the door shut behind him.

Laf smiles in greeting, takes a long drag of a cigarette that he passes to John. Alex huffs, leaning his shoulder against John’s. “That’s an awful habit.”

“It’s an addiction,” John murmurs, whether in correction or admission Alex can’t tell. When he passes the cig back to Laf he leans over to kiss Alex’s head.

“What’s your excuse?”

Laf shrugs, gestures lazily with the cigarette and Alex can hear the words before he says them. “I’m French.”

Alex rolls his eyes. Glances up at John and sees him grinning down at him. Rolls his eyes again, feels John’s chuckle where they’re pressed together.

“Do not worry about the health of our lungs,” Laf says, a chastising bite to the words. “You do damage to yours, we to ours.”

Alex immediately feels words crowd their way up his throat, filling his mouth. He swallows them back – Laf doesn’t want research. He wants aesthetic, and maybe release. Alex can understand that. 

 

\--

 

**Hope.**

In the week leading up to their anniversary, Alex starts leaving Eliza poetry. He’ll scrawl a stanza on a post-it, leave it on the mirror while she showers. Stuff a sheet of notebook paper into her backpack.

Friday afternoon and she still hasn’t given him any recognition that she’s received them. He hears her call his name from the opening of the hallway and looks up from where he’s seated in front of the coffee table, books and laptop in a sprawl around him. She crosses her arms, shifting her weight onto one foot.

“I think someone is trying to seduce me.”

Alex lifts an eyebrow, sees her copy him. “Seduce you? I hope I don’t have to be worried.”

She shrugs, falsely casual. He tries to bite back his grin. “How well is it working?”

“Oh,” she says airily. “Pretty well.”

“Really,” he drawls, leaning back against the couch and rubbing his chin consideringly. “And how have they accomplished this?”

“The usual way. Little notes, flirty rhymes. How is anyone seduced these days?”

Alex scoffs. “With unsolicited dick pics, if anyone in the cafeteria is to be believed.”

Eliza can’t quite stifle her giggle at that. She seems to lose her patience with the playful tension building between them and crosses the living room to sit on the couch. He turns and rests an elbow on the cushions, tracing his fingers on her ankle.

“I’m glad my poetry has been so well-received.”

She hums. He glances up and smiles at her self-satisfied grin. “There are a couple other things you could do that would be equally… well-received.”

Alex laughs, as delighted by the bubbly happiness in his chest as the heat gathering between his legs. He shifts, shoving the coffee table far enough away for him to turn onto his knees, pushing Eliza’s legs open and settling between them. He hums when she pushes both hands through his hair and kisses the skin of her knee.

“Happy Anniversary, my dear,” he murmurs, kissing her hand when it rests on his jaw. She’s smiling softly when he looks up at her, pretty blush already spreading across her chest. “Happy Anniversary,” she replies, gasping loudly when he bites at her thigh.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading - let me know what you thought and if there’s anything I should tag for :)


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